


Free fall with me (to open up)

by dieinthewinter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drabble, Emotions, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dieinthewinter/pseuds/dieinthewinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the world stops spinning for a minute and they find a place to hide, they can float. </p><p>And shine. </p><p>And evolve around each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free fall with me (to open up)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from the song "Spit the Dark" by "WeAreEmpires"
> 
> Nothing belongs to me except for the words I used and the idea behind them.

Skin to skin, pulse to pulse. Breathe by breathe pass by in a matter of seconds and time runs and flies and fleets like it always did for them.  
Since the very beginning.  
For the past three and a half years.

It’s only a matter of time. And time actually doesn’t matter. Not for them.

Their cheeks are pressed together, flush and in a familiar notion that comes as easy as blinking to him now.  
Sometimes he has to put it on hold, stay still for a while cause he either can’t believe the moment he’s in.  
Or he wants to draw it out as long as he can.

Harry has his nose buried in the hair covering his temple, mouth held open slightly against his ear while his fingers are curled around his own securely.  
Nothing can happen to them here.

Nobody can see them, standing on a thirty story building, hidden by half-heartedly built walls of stone.

They’ve been up in that spot for what feels like days now, an eternity, swaying along to the music playing in their heads and dancing over Harry’s lips in a hushed whisper. Broken harmonies and syllables. The most beautiful melody Louis has ever heard.

Their feet bare, legs covered by their pyjama pants. Only kept warm by cozy jumpers and respective body heat and they purposely ignore the tiny stones digging into the flesh of their soles and the reeking of cars and smog and life.

Cause Harry smells like honey and toothpaste and those damn bananas he apparantly carries around all the time now.  
And Louis’ scent is made of hazelnut and sweat and fried chicken and it smells like home.   
They smell like home for each other. Their home.  
On the other side of the world. But right now, it’s here. Where they are and where they have each other.

Where all they see and feel, where all that matters, is them.


End file.
